


keep the desk empty for me

by featherx



Series: requests [35]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Gags, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Under-Desk Sex, light exhibitionism, top yuri/bottom mbyleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherx/pseuds/featherx
Summary: It’s late—the only reason Byleth is still here is because he’d been trying to salvage what little he could from the interview recording to write down, and even then he’d already been planning to leave after a few more minutes. Yuri, his manager, could head home whenever he liked.More importantly, they’re the only ones left in the office, and probably the entire floor.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Series: requests [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1388335
Comments: 1
Kudos: 110





	keep the desk empty for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ASWDima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASWDima/gifts).



> prompt: yurileth FWBs + office AU! thanks for requesting!!  
> the title is a joke but it is taken from [this song](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZsUmKQt3RvaxuHVHbJlyI?si=R2bpURNbRxSbinZ0UMwI0g), which is like the COMPLETE opposite of this fic's mood LMAO
> 
> also i had to write a part of this on my dad's ipad because of a blackout earlier today and i had to use words like car for cum and chicken for cock just so predictive text wouldn't expose me so PLEASE i BEG you if you see any placeholder words like that in the middle of a sex scene that i missed during find+replace please just have mercy on me

“What’s with you?” Yuri bites the head off his taiyaki. “You look like you just took a round trip to Hell. Let me guess… that interview didn’t go well, did it?”

Byleth sighs and drops his pen—it falls on his desk and rolls to a stop above the sheet of paper he had used to record the important parts of the interview. Or _tried to,_ anyway. The paper is completely blank. “I did get some quotes we can probably use for the article, but nothing that actually clears the issue up. Also, he was an ass the whole time.”

“Hmm.” Yuri comforts Byleth the only way he knows how: “Want some?”

Byleth takes the taiyaki Yuri offers him, flips it around, and bites off the tail. He much prefers strawberry or chocolate filling, but Yuri once casually told him he would kill men for red bean paste; at the time, Byleth hadn’t been sure whether to laugh politely or call the police. “Thanks,” Byleth mumbles through a mouthful of fish bread. “Um, not to be rude, but… is there a reason you’re here?”

Yuri tilts his head to the side, his lips curving ever so slightly into a smile. “Do I need a reason to be here with my favorite employee?”

“You…” Byleth can feel his cheeks heating up, and he averts his gaze to stare down at his desk, chewing furiously. “You know what I mean.” It’s late—the only reason Byleth is still here is because he’d been trying to salvage what little he could from the interview recording to write down, and even then he’d already been planning to leave after a few more minutes. Yuri, his manager, could head home whenever he liked.

More importantly, they’re the only ones left in the office, and probably the entire floor.

Yuri doesn’t say anything, and Byleth glances up just to see Yuri munching away at his snack. _Right. Figures._ Byleth turns back to his desk, sweeping pens and papers into his bag. He’s not disappointed. Why would he be disappointed? There’s nothing to be disappointed about.

“Aww.” Plastic crinkles as Yuri crumples the taiyaki wrapper up and tosses it into the trash bin beneath Byleth’s desk. “Is that a little frown I see on such a cute face? That won’t do.”

Byleth startles when Yuri plants a hand on the edge of his desk, effectively caging him between his desk and, well, the man behind him. “Y-Yuri?” he coughs out, turning around in his seat to look up at him.

Yuri clicks his tongue. “Is that how you address your manager?”

“Oh,” Byleth breathes, very softly. Just hearing Yuri speak that way, voice low and tone both threatening and teasing at once, has his whole body warming up in anticipation. “Forgive me… sir.”

“That’s more like it.” And Yuri bends down to catch Byleth’s mouth in a biting kiss.

Byleth practically melts into the kiss—Yuri’s lips are soft and strawberry-lipgloss-sweet, and when Byleth licks at the inside of his cheek he can taste the tang of red bean paste from earlier. Yuri growls, presses closer, lifting one leg up to fold at the knee to rest atop Byleth’s chair, in between his thighs; he pulls away from Byleth’s mouth, which is all the warning Byleth gets before Yuri is kissing him again, even harder and harsher this time, digging his knee against Byleth’s crotch.

“Yu—S-Sir—”

“That’s right,” Yuri murmurs, right against Byleth’s lips. His hands slide away from the desk only to pull Byleth’s jacket down from his shoulders while he grinds his knee harder against Byleth’s stiffening cock. “You want this? You want more?”

“Please…”

“Wrong answer.” Yuri shifts down, unbuttoning Byleth’s dress shirt just to drag his teeth across the sensitive skin at his neck. Byleth’s whimper turns into a full whine when Yuri’s fingers skim across his nipples through the fabric, the touch made only worse by the fact that Yuri’s knee has stopped moving, only firmly pressed against the growing bulge in Byleth’s trousers.

Byleth swallows, clutching onto Yuri’s arm for some semblance of balance. “Y-Yes, sir,” he whispers, raising his hips and just barely muffling his groan in time when Yuri moves his knee at the same time and rubs against the head of Byleth’s cock. Byleth gets the sinking feeling he’s going to be washing something untoward out of his underwear soon, but he can barely bring himself to care.

“That’s more like it,” Yuri commends. He untucks Byleth’s shirt out of his pants to slip his warm hands underneath, tracing his muscles and squeezing his pecs before flicking and twisting his nipples. Byleth bites back whatever embarrassing sound he would have made, hard enough to draw blood from his lower lip—blood Yuri licks up before kissing him again, a smug smirk on his face.

Byleth is this close to begging for Yuri’s mouth on his cock, or just getting on his knees and sucking Yuri off himself, but before he can make a decision a loud ringtone blares through the empty office. Yuri curses, draws back, and fishes his buzzing phone out of his pocket. “I should hold this against your dick,” he mutters, casting Byleth a sideways glance.

Byleth can only stare back, too aroused by the idea to even pretend to not want it.

Rather unfortunately, Yuri takes the call. “Make it quick,” he snaps, one hand coming up to tug at his necktie. Byleth’s not sure what to do, because he looks like an absolute mess—face flushed, jacket bunched around his elbows, shirt unbuttoned at the collar and hiked up to expose his stomach, erection threatening to leak through his trousers—but once again, he doesn’t have much time to think further than that before Yuri’s saying, “Fine, got it,” and hanging up.

“Um…” Byleth clears his throat. That was an absurdly short phone call—he gets the feeling Yuri had hung up in the middle of the caller’s sentence. “Do you need to go?”

Yuri shoots him an apologetic look. “They need me to pick something up, and I probably have to stay and talk. You’re better off dealing with that—” He gives Byleth’s obvious situation a glance—“on your own. Sorry about this.”

He grabs his coat off the nearby rack, then heads into the elevator at the far end of the office. The doors slide closed without a single backwards glance from him. Byleth stares down at himself, sighs, and decides he’ll have to settle for a cold shower at home.

He hadn’t even gotten to ask Yuri to dinner tonight.

It’s probably not a big deal. Scratch that—it’s _definitely_ not a big deal. If anything, it’s not a deal at all.

Before you ask: no, Byleth hadn’t planned to fuck his manager—or, more accurately, get fucked by his manager—when he applied for the job. The salary of a part-time teacher didn’t pay the bills, so Byleth had snagged the position for a journalist at the local newspaper as soon as it opened, and Yuri had apparently just risen to his position when Byleth was accepted. They hardly even spoke at all the first few weeks, with Byleth sending him drafts and Yuri sending them back within the day with little comments here and there. Nothing special, purely professional.

Then one day, Byleth had to personally deliver some papers to Yuri in his office—the usual guy was down with a cold, or whatever—and he made actual eye contact with the man for the first time that entire month. Byleth remembers thinking his eyes were beautiful but cold, like precious metals—if he were a poet, he might have been able to think of something better. As it is, he’s a journalist for a reason.

“Thanks,” Yuri said, perfunctory as ever, taking the papers from his hold—their fingers had met for the briefest of seconds, and Byleth nearly jumped away at the touch. How had it taken him so long to realize his manager was a tiny bit prettier than he first thought?

He had stood there, staring at Yuri for so long that Yuri looked up at him through long eyelashes, a frown marring his otherwise beautiful features. “Yes? Is there something else?”

“N—No,” Byleth stammered. “Excuse me, sir.” And then he rushed out without looking back.

As Yuri told him later that day—when early evening had fallen, every other employee in the office had left, and he had bound Byleth’s wrists together with his own necktie before promptly jerking him off and getting him to come all over his desk—Byleth _should_ have looked back, just once. “Maybe then,” Yuri whispered, voice like a siren song in his ear, just as Byleth was coming down from his orgasm, “we could’ve done this four hours ago.”

Yuri had left him trembling and bent over in his office cubicle that night, but they both came in extra early the next morning to talk about exactly what had happened, like they were discussing the terms of a contract. The conversation had gone something like this: “Ever had a friend with benefits?”

Byleth stared at him. “No?”

“Do you _know_ what that is?” Yuri amended, rolling his eyes in what Byleth hoped was fond exasperation but was probably just exasperation.

Byleth nodded, and Yuri nodded back. “Okay. So we’ve got that settled, then. Now did you get the transcript of the interview from Ashe yesterday?”

Considering Yuri always looked like he was _this_ close to murdering someone, Byleth was surprised when he turned out to be… well… nice. Okay, not _nice,_ but there simply isn’t a word to describe the entirety of Yuri Leclerc—he’s police and courteous enough to everyone in the company, unless they catch him in a bad mood (which is often), but he isn’t exactly _friendly,_ either. He kept almost everyone a wide distance away from him, like a particularly territorial wolf protecting its pack, a metaphor Byleth found himself growing more endeared with the longer he observed Yuri.

By ‘observe,’ he definitely means ‘having sex with.’ Yuri certainly keeps him on his toes—he’s considerate and always asks if something’s alright first—so far Byleth has never said anything but _yes_ to him—but he somehow manages to come up with new things to surprise Byleth with nearly everyday. At some point, there had been that time with the glass walls… well, never mind that.

The point is, well. Byleth likes it, of course. He likes Yuri, and he likes the sex. But there comes a time where one is not sure if they’re overstepping their boundaries by inviting their friend-with-benefits over for dinner, or if that’s something Byleth should have done several months ago.

The idea hasn’t left Byleth’s head since it had planted itself in there last week. He’s half-decent at cooking, but he’s not exactly _confident_ in it, so he had just thought of buying takeout from some nice restaurant. But then wouldn’t it be better to just take Yuri to the restaurant itself? But then _that_ might make it seem like a _date,_ which it _isn’t._ Unless it _is,_ of course, but then Byleth’s never been on a date before—he likes to pretend his high school days simply do not exist and therefore cannot be perceived—so he wouldn’t know what to do or say or anything. So that just brings the circle back to inviting Yuri for dinner at _his_ apartment, and then the question of whether a home-cooked meal would be any better or worse than takeout…

“Byleth?”

Not for the first time, Byleth drops his pen. Ashe is standing behind him, just outside his cubicle, looking slightly concerned. “Sorry, I was… thinking,” Byleth mumbles, opening a Word file on his laptop to look like he had been productive. It would probably look more convincing if the file weren’t blank. “What is it?”

Ashe smiles. “Mr. Leclerc called you into his office, said it’s about your latest draft. Don’t keep him waiting!” And he bustles off, carrying a large stack of documents in his arms.

 _Latest draft, yeah, right,_ Byleth thinks, standing up and tossing his pen back in his pen holder. Yuri is either very uncreative or very lazy when it comes to excuses—it’s always about Byleth’s _latest draft_ or _latest interview_ or literally latest anything. Ashe had once told Byleth it was about his latest cup of coffee, before he walked off looking very confused, which Byleth could not blame him for.

With a long-suffering sigh, Byleth closes the useless Word file and takes the very familiar route through the office cubicles and towards Yuri’s office. “Hey,” Byleth greets, pushing the door open. After enough personal meetings like this, he’s grown fairly used to addressing Yuri casually despite the difference in positions. “Latest draft?”

“Latest draft.” Yuri looks up from his desk. “Alright, but really, how is it? I passed by and saw you staring at the interview transcript again. Have you finished it or not? Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean I’ll extend deadlines for you all the time.”

Byleth winces. That’s not an empty threat, and he knows that largely because Yuri has _never_ extended deadlines for him, ever. Even after Byleth had literally gotten down on his knees, but then again, Byleth had _wanted_ to do that, so maybe it doesn’t count. “I’m almost done, really,” he swears. “I just need to fix the grammar up, and maybe… I don’t know. Embellish it.”

“Embellish it,” Yuri repeats to himself, sounding thoughtful. “Sure, that does sound like you.”

“I… Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Yuri motions for him to come closer, and Byleth hesitantly does so until he’s standing in front of the desk. “Do I _have_ to say it?” Yuri sighs. “Over here. Right here.”

Swallowing nervously, Byleth moves around the desk to stand beside Yuri’s executive office chair, which is honestly too big for someone of his height. Not that Byleth’s going to say that aloud, ever, because he quite likes being alive. “Yuri,” he says, voice soft, “what did you call me for today?”

Yuri grins, wild and wicked, before reaching up to grab Byleth’s necktie and twist it around his fist for a firmer grip. “Oh, but shouldn’t you already know?” he whispers, pulling Byleth’s upper body down to speak right beside his ear. “After this much time, you shouldn’t need to ask. You won’t even speak to me respectfully… bad boy.”

“H—” Byleth bites back a sharp exhale when Yuri nips the side of his neck, right on a bruise that still hasn’t faded from when he had left it yesterday. Pretending his voice doesn’t waver, he shifts closer, lifts his hands up to brush hesitantly against Yuri’s waist. “H-How can I make it up to you… sir?”

“Normally I’d pamper you,” Yuri says, drawing back to give Byleth an innocently thoughtful expression, “but you’ve already displeased me within, what, five minutes of being in here? So this time, why don’t you do all the work, hm? I want to see your cute desperate face.” He smiles, and then, in a lower, firmer commanding tone that has blood instantly rushing to Byleth’s dick, “Get on your hands and knees. Under the desk.”

Byleth doesn’t protest—he drops to all fours and shuffles beneath the desk, raising his head just slightly to be eye-level with Yuri’s crotch. The executive office desk keeps him hidden from anyone who might enter the room, but even if it didn’t, there are hardly any windows to look into anyway. Yuri reclines against his seat, cupping Byleth’s cheek in one smooth hand and tipping his chin up to make eye contact with him. “I just _adore_ looking at you from up here,” he coos. “Go on. You know what I want.”

To be honest, Byleth doesn’t, but he can make an educated guess as to why he’s positioned like this anyway. With easy, practiced motions, he undoes Yuri’s pants and pulls his underwear down just enough for Byleth to take his slowly-hardening cock in hand.

No matter how many times Byleth has done this exact same thing, he somehow never gets tired of it—it’s how Yuri’s grip on his hair tightens when Byleth licks at his length, how Yuri murmurs words of praise under his breath, urging Byleth to go on as he scatters kisses along his shaft. He’s grown to crave the first real taste of Yuri’s cock when he takes it in his mouth, the burn when he stretches his jaw and relaxes his throat to slowly inch more of his dick inside, the wetness and messiness of pre-cum and saliva alike beginning to drip down his chin.

“That’s right,” Yuri murmurs, breaths growing quick and shallow once Byleth starts bobbing his head up and down his cock. “Oh, you’re—ah—yes, you’re so good, Byleth, so good for me, just like that…”

Byleth shifts forward on his knees, taking Yuri as deep as he can go until he feels the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. He can’t help the long, shuddering moan he lets out, and the vibrations from that must feel good, because Yuri curses and pulls _hard_ at the long, uneven strands at the base of Byleth’s neck. The sting of pain only emphasizes the short, sharp wave of pleasure that rushes through his spine at the feeling. “Fuck—Byleth,” Yuri pants, tugging Byleth off of his dick, a thin string of saliva connecting it to Byleth’s lips, “turn around. I want—I need to fuck you.”

“T-T-The—” Byleth swallows. He doesn’t know how many times he’s heard a variation of those words, but they never fail to make him go crazy, and it doesn’t help that his own dick had started to stir in interest under his pants. “The… Do you have the…”

“You still can’t say ‘lube,’ huh,” Yuri muses. He opens a drawer, digs something out, and tosses the bottle into Byleth’s waiting hands. “Open yourself up for me. I want to watch.”

Byleth’s hands are shaking so hard, he fumbles with the lube and nearly spills the entire thing on the floor before finally managing to get it open somehow. He tugs his trousers out of the way, embarrassingly desperate, and he feels his face flush even more than it already has when he frees his stiff cock out of his underwear and Yuri hums, watching appreciatively.

Byleth moves to take himself in hand, just for the slightest bit of relief, only for Yuri to nudge his arm away with his foot. “Not there,” Yuri scolds, shaking his head. “That can come later. For now…” He trails off meaningfully.

“But…” Byleth swallows. “I-It’s embarrassing.” Despite his words, he’s already turning around, still on all fours but with his back arched slightly to make his hole easier to reach.

Yuri reaches down, his fingers brushing against the soft flesh of Byleth’s ass for the briefest of seconds before he pulls away, leaving Byleth to shiver at the promise of pleasure by himself. “That’s what makes you love it, isn’t it?” he purrs. “You’re so cute. So pretty. Go on now, give me a show.”

And what’s Byleth supposed to say to that— _no?_ He coats his fingers in lube, then reaches behind himself to rub against his perineum. He shudders at the cold, but the friction warms the lube up quickly enough, and he doesn’t realize how badly he’d been craving this until he’s slipping the first finger in himself, perhaps a little faster than usual, and hears the sharp intake of breath behind him. “That’s right,” Yuri whispers, one hand smoothing over Byleth’s ass again. “Keep going. You’re doing so well… so perfect…”

Praise from Yuri, especially in such a breathy, breathless voice, spurs him like nothing else. Byleth’s already inserting the second finger, desperately fucking himself on his hand and trying to ignore how his painfully-hard cock is leaking pre-cum all over the floor, when Yuri suddenly grabs his wrist and jerks his hand out of himself. Byleth whines at the emptiness, but Yuri rectifies that near-immediately too when he pulls Byleth closer to him and lines his own cock up with Byleth’s entrance. “Alright?” Yuri pants, squeezing his ass.

“Please,” Byleth responds, proud his voice only shakes a little bit. Yuri grins and finally, finally enters him.

Byleth’s fairly inexperienced in the art of sex, but even he knows Yuri is phenomenal at it. He throws his head back, nearly bumping himself against the underside of the desk, and groans loud enough for the whole office to hear if the door had been open—only the head of Yuri’s cock is in him, which really only makes him even more desperate for more. “Easy, easy,” Yuri murmurs, pushing him back when Byleth tries to take in more of him. “You’re so cute. What’s with you? Why are you so eager today?”

“F… Fuck me,” Byleth pleads instead, head too hazy to come up with anything more complicated than that. “Yuri, Yuri, I w-want your cock…”

“You’re not going to get your way just by being cute.” Yuri raises his arm, which is all the warning Byleth gets before Yuri delivers a swift slap against one of his asscheeks—Byleth bucks forward with a high moan he tries and fails to muffle behind his palm. “And who do you think you are, throwing my name around like that?”

“Please, sir,” Byleth whimpers, rocking back on the tip of Yuri’s cock. Having so little inside him is torturous—he needs more of it, _all_ of it, until Yuri’s fucked him silly and leaving him to lie on the floor in a puddle of their mixing cum. “I haven’t—haven’t—h-had you in so long, please…”

“You sure love to stroke my ego,” Yuri mutters, more to himself than anything. Then, in a slightly louder voice, “I told you. Do the work.”

“Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

Byleth cranes his neck to meet Yuri’s eyes—he has no idea how he looks right now, but judging by how hard his dick feels and how ragged his breathing has gone, Byleth is fairly certain desperation is written all over his face. “Yes, sir,” he pants, before rocking back and taking in all of Yuri’s cock in one quick motion.

It stings just slightly—this is why Yuri keeps lecturing him about the repercussions of his impatience—but Byleth’s come to like that, too. He fills the office up with his moans, fucking himself on Yuri’s cock while Yuri rubs and squeezes and slaps his ass, urging him on, lavishing him in praise that almost feels as good as a hand on his dick. “You take my cock so well,” Yuri purrs. “Like you were made for me to fuck… God, Byleth, you’re so fucking tight, keep going…”

“Yuri,” Byleth whines—he can feel that hazy wave of pleasure threatening to overtake him now, replacing rational thought with the overwhelming need for more of Yuri, whether fucking him or toying with him or anything, just _Yuri._ “More… more, please, please…”

Just a little more, just a few more thrusts against his prostate, and Byleth knows he’s going to—

“Hello? Mr. Leclerc?”

Byleth nearly falls face-first onto the floor, and Yuri’s knee bangs against one of the desk legs. “Yeah?” he calls out, probably by habit, because he immediately looks stricken as soon as the word leaves his mouth and Byleth hears the office door creak open. “O-Oh, shit—I mean, uh.” Yuri clears his throat. “A… Ashe. Can this be quick?”

“Are you busy?” Ashe asks, the tiniest hint of skepticism in his tone. Once again, Byleth can’t blame him—Yuri had probably looked the complete opposite of busy just now. “I wanted to ask about these photos. The other manager said no to all the ones you approved…”

Under the desk as he is, Byleth can’t see anything around him except for Yuri behind him, but this sound is definitely Ashe’s footsteps, growing closer and closer towards the desk until he’s standing right in front of them. “Uh, stay right there,” Yuri orders, panic creeping into his voice. “Look, is this going to be a while? I’m a little… busy, yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Could you just take a look at these, please? It’d be best if we could reach a compromise with which photos to use for today’s issue.”

Already Byleth has a feeling this is almost certainly going to take _a while,_ and he can’t wait any longer—maybe it’s that headspace of his making him do this, but he can’t bring himself to care if they get caught. Muffling his gasp in his hand, he rolls his hips back against Yuri’s cock, glad Yuri had been too stunned to immediately pull out of him.

He’s rewarded by Yuri disguising his startled moan as a violent cough, and Ashe yelping, “A-Are you alright? Do you need water?”

“That would be _great,_ ” Yuri immediately agrees. “Could you get me—tea? Hot tea from the vending machine? And take your time, really. I should be done when you get back, okay? Off you go now.”

Byleth doesn’t bother waiting for the sound of the office door closing—he continues rocking back on Yuri’s cock, groaning into the crook of his elbow and making a mess of pre-cum all over the floor. Only when the door falls shut does Yuri, who had been admirably silent in the past few seconds, grabs hold of Byleth’s hips and _yanks_ him backwards to fuck him on his dick, tearing a surprised cry from Byleth’s mouth. “How desperate can you get?” Yuri hisses. “So excited you didn’t even lock the door, huh?”

“N—Need you,” Byleth gasps, whimpering when Yuri tightens his hold on his waist and starts _really_ fucking into him, thrusting faster and harder than he’s ever done before, pounding against Byleth’s prostate and reducing him into a sobbing mess. “Yes—yes, there, p-please—”

“Even when someone else was in the damn room—” Yuri growls, a low, guttural sound that has pleasure coiling in Byleth’s gut—“you didn’t want to stop? You wanna get caught like this, when you’re so desperate you’d let everyone watch you get fucked like a little cockslut?”

The thought of people watching Yuri fuck him like this only has Byleth _sobbing_ into his arm. He probably wouldn’t _actually_ like it if it happened, but the idea, the _concept—_ “Please, please, please—”

Yuri groans, nails digging into Byleth’s skin. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Yeah, I bet you’d love that, huh. Everyone jerking off to you. Coming on your face…” He sounds like he means to speak more, but his breathing is growing more erratic by the second, his pace speeding up almost too fast for Byleth to keep up with. “What else do you want, Byleth?”

“You,” Byleth says, honestly—he doesn’t think he’s capable of lying right now, anyway, and Yuri’s cock is as good as it gets. “K-Keep talking, please…”

Yuri doesn’t respond right away, as if surprised, but he recovers quickly and rams against Byleth’s prostate hard enough that for a long blissful moment, Byleth sees stars. “M… Maybe,” he continues, clearly struggling to stay coherent now, “they could— _mm,_ ah—they could take turns with you. Fill you up nice and full with cum, just how you like it.” He pauses in his thrusting a moment, only to trace Byleth’s rim stretched around his dick for several taunting seconds. “Look at your pretty little hole. You think you could take two cocks at once?”

Byleth can’t help it—he comes hard, crying out, tears staining his cheeks as he spills all over the floor, still frantically bucking his hips against Yuri’s cock. He must tighten up around Yuri, because he curses and fucks him through his orgasm; the only warning Byleth gets is a low groan before Yuri’s finishing inside him, filling his insides up with familiar hot, thick cum.

He doesn’t even have time to enjoy the afterglow because Yuri’s already pulling his underwear and pants back up, despite the cum Byleth can feel trickling out of his thoroughly abused hole. “Y—Yuri, wait,” Byleth pants. “That… Don’t you have tissue here…”

“You’re cute when you can’t even get up yet,” Yuri muses. “And no. Deal with that mess yourself. Consider it a punishment for being such a naughty slut.”

Byleth reluctantly crawls out from under the desk and stands up, which would be a lot easier if his legs didn’t dangerously wobble and cum doesn’t drip out of his ass with every movement. “The, uh. Under the table, I…”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it.” Yuri grins. “I’m not cruel enough to make you lick it up. Unless you want that?”

Byleth’s just beginning to wonder if he actually does when Ashe enters the office again, his camera slung around his neck and a can of tea in his hand. “Mr. Leclerc! Oh, and Byleth too,” he greets, giving Byleth a smile. “I didn’t see you come in. Were you on an errand?”

“Yes. Definitely,” Byleth agrees, not bothering to think about it any further. Sometimes the best excuses are the ones people make up for you.

“I’ll send an email your way later, Ashe,” Yuri says, already beginning to slip back into business mode. “Since I can’t tell this _other manager_ you speak of to eat shit, I’ll just have to convince them to agree with me some other way—oh, thanks.” He takes the tea Ashe holds out to him, setting it atop a coaster that looks clearly hand-knit. “How about this one, as an… offering, of sorts? If they still disagree then don’t trouble yourself with it too much and leave it to me.”

Ashe smiles, all freckles and dimples. “Understood. Thank you very much, sir. You’re always so reliable!” He gathers the photos on the desk back up in his arms and hurries out of the office after a wave goodbye towards Byleth.

Byleth shifts uncomfortably, trying his hardest to ignore the cum beginning to pool in his underwear. “He’s… nice,” he says. “Don’t you like him?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure, he’s a good worker,” Yuri responds distractedly, digging through drawers before finally retrieving a half-empty pack of tissue. He bends down, wipes the cum off the floor as best as he can, and tosses the used tissue into the trash bin. “Why? You don’t?”

“No, I mean—I like Ashe too, but I was asking you…” Byleth trails off, coughs awkwardly, and is forced to continue when it becomes evident that Yuri is waiting for him to speak. “You know. Wouldn’t you like to… also… be with him?”

Yuri gives him a tired look. “I know who I want, Byleth,” he replies. “Don’t start doubting my taste in dicks now. Here.” He takes the canned tea and tosses it over to Byleth, who catches it on reflex and consequently shivers when the sudden movement has cum just about spurting out of his hole. “You were loud as usual. This might help your throat out.”

Byleth blinks, staring down at the tea, then staring up at Yuri. “Are you sure? This is—”

“Hey, hey, quit arguing and just take it already,” Yuri grumbles, turning away from Byleth to do something on his laptop, moving the cursor pad to wake it up from sleep mode. “It’s not often I do nice things for others, alright? Other people would already be on their knees to thank me. Which is something you _could_ do, theoretically…”

“I’d be happy to,” Byleth offers. Also, it might escalate into a situation where he could do something about the cum in his ass, but that’s a small hope at best.

Once again, Yuri gives him a long-suffering sigh. “Are you _still_ not satisfied after all that? Take your horniness to the restroom or something. _I_ have to work.”

Byleth smiles anyway. “Thank you for the tea, Yuri.”

“ _Whatever._ ”

Byleth heads back to his desk, intent on inhaling the tea and getting some work done, but the mess quickly being made in his underwear refuses to be ignored. He has a fleeting thought of what might happen if he lets this get worse—a wet stain on his trousers is as far as his mind gets before he’s dropping the tea at his desk and then rushing off to the restroom. As much as he might like exhibitionism in _theory,_ application is a different story altogether.

The restroom is thankfully empty when he enters, and Byleth ducks into the stall at the far end, where there’s a bit more space and a bit more privacy. He’s done this before, but he still isn’t quite used to the motions—Yuri had asked for permission the first time, as he did with everything, and while Byleth had readily agreed in the heat of the moment, he always inevitably ends up having a hard time afterwards. It’s a good thing they don’t deduct his pay for spending so much time in the toilet.

He wipes the toilet seat clean before sitting on it and carefully tugging his pants down. Any later and it would have been a lost cause—his underwear is soaked and sticky with cum, a thin string of the fluid connecting it to his hole when he tugs the wet fabric down as well. After a moment’s hesitation, Byleth slips a finger in himself, shuddering when he opens easily and thick cum drips out onto his palm.

 _Yuri’s_ cum, Byleth reminds himself, and he has to bite back the moan he very nearly lets out. Thinking of Yuri gives him an idea, though, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket with his clean hand. It’s hard to get a decent picture considering his hand is shaking terribly, but somehow he manages.

[13:51]

[image attached] ****

 **yuri :)** [13:52]

_wtf you won’t even bother with a caption_

Byleth waits a little longer—he knows how awful the Wi-Fi here is when it comes to loading pictures—until he gets a text back. It’s a very simple, “oh.”

[13:54]

_Is that all u have to say :(_

**yuri :)** [13:54]

_i hate you. what are you waiting for. send more._

Just as Byleth had expected. He closes the toilet and sits on the lid, because he’d rather die of embarrassment than explain to the janitor how he’d dropped his phone in the toilet, and tries tapping into his latent photography skills. He has none, of course, but it’s always nice to dream, and he thinks he’s doing a fairly good job anyway.

He hasn’t heard anyone come in the restroom so far, so Byleth lets out a low sigh of pleasure when he slips two fingers in. He’s still loose from earlier, and the cum slides out easily, pooling atop the toilet lid. What would Yuri say, if he were here, if this were his hand rather than Byleth’s? Byleth closes his eyes, and it’s not hard to imagine Yuri standing above him, coaxing his own cum out of Byleth’s ass, whispering dirty praise in his ear. _Good boy,_ he hears in that smooth, silken voice of Yuri’s, and Byleth shivers, worrying on his bottom lip as his cock throbs in newfound pleasure.

If Yuri were here, would he get his dick inside Byleth again, bend him over the toilet seat and fuck the cum out of him just to replace it with more? Would he use Byleth like a cock sleeve, force Byleth to stay on his knees with his cock in his mouth until Yuri was satisfied? Byleth muffles a groan in his shoulder, riding desperately on his own fingers—when had he inserted three? four, now?—while cum trickles out and puddles beneath him.

 _What would anyone say if they saw you like this?_ Byleth imagines Yuri asking him, caressing his cheek, brushing his hair. _Would you want them to watch you? Ogle you? Perhaps bring a photographer over to take your picture?_

Byleth has to hold back a whine when he pulls his fingers out of himself, the emptiness nearly overwhelming after feeling so _full,_ but his cock aches so much it’s almost painful. He takes himself in hand and pumps hard and fast, rubbing his thumb along the head and digging his finger against his slit until he comes again, his cum dripping down to join the mess he’s made on the toilet seat.

It takes him a few seconds to collect himself long enough to press the _send_ button—after that, he leans back against the tank, catching his breath and staring at the ceiling. If he stays like this too long, the cum is going to dry on the toilet lid, but he can hardly bring himself to care right now.

**yuri :)** [14:00]

_you look like you very much enjoyed that_

[14:01]

_Are u?_

_Enjoying it, I mean_

Yuri only sends a picture of him holding his own erect cock in response, which really should not be making Byleth’s own dick twitch in interest. He can’t possibly go three times in a row—that’s too much, even for him—but if Yuri sends absolutely anything else, Byleth can’t guarantee the safety and cleanliness of this restroom cubicle.

**yuri :)** [14:01]

_i won’t bother you and send any more :)_

_what are you doing jerking off in the restroom anyway. Get Back To Work i don’t pay you based on how many times you orgasm in a day!!_

[14:02]

 _Yes sir_ 🙄

 **yuri :)** [14:02]

_did you just roll your eyes at me… i should punish you for that_

_but then you’d just enjoy it so what would be the point_ 😑

Byleth is quite sure he looks ridiculous with a silly smile on his face while wiping cum off the toilet lid with some tissue, but it’s not as if anyone’s around to make fun of him for that except himself. He finishes cleaning up, makes sure he isn’t going to leak all over his underwear anymore, and washes his hands as thoroughly as possible before leaving the restroom. He was probably in there for longer than acceptable, but hopefully no one really cares.

There’s another text from Yuri waiting for him when he gets back to his desk, surprisingly enough; Byleth had figured Yuri would leave him to work. He supposes his own manager is just as bored as he is.

**yuri :)** [14:05]

_you held out a bit longer than you usually do a while ago btw_

_are you getting used to my dick… are you getting tired of me…_

The words are obviously meant to be in a joking manner, but Byleth frowns to himself all the same. He types with one hand and opens the (now lukewarm) can of tea with the other.

[14:06]

_That’s embarrassing :(_

_I just like the way u felt is all_

_Anyway u know I could never get tired of u_

_Uh-oh, sounds a little too heartfelt,_ a voice in Byleth’s head narrates. _Better add something so he doesn’t start suspecting you of having feelings!_

[14:07]

_And ur dick_

There we go. Byleth watches the three dots of the typing icon appear and disappear erratically, and he entertains himself with the (ludicrous, of course) idea of Yuri fretting over how to reply before his phone buzzes with a text.

**yuri :)** [14:09]

_lol_

Okay, well, that’s just nice. Byleth pockets his phone, takes a long sip of his tea, and tries to focus on working rather than the uncharacteristic one-word reply.

Yuri goes straight home later that day, too. Byleth stays a little later, hoping just slightly he might come back, but no such thing happens. He packs up and takes the train home alone, wondering when exactly he’ll ever get the chance to ask Yuri for that dinner.

“You’re being too loud again,” Yuri accuses, which Byleth finds rather unfair. Is he supposed to be _quiet_ when Yuri is railing him from behind on the office desk? “What if someone hears you? Naughty boy.”

“M-Mmn—” Byleth tries to reach down for his aching dick, only remembering his wrists are tied behind his back with Yuri’s necktie when he fails. Yuri huffs in amusement, probably sensing the attempt at movement through the squirm of Byleth’s arms, and punctuates his unspoken words with a hard thrust against Byleth’s prostate. “Nn—ah, _ah,_ Yuri, Yuri, right t-there—”

“Shhh. Too _damn_ loud. I should shut you up.” Yuri tugs at Byleth’s neck, and through the haze of pleasure Byleth barely manages to pick out the dark gray of his own necktie before it’s unceremoniously balled up and shoved in his mouth… if one can shove something with gentleness, anyway, as with everything Yuri does. “Cry all you want now. Just know you’re going to have to deal with that in the laundry later.”

If Byleth is supposed to laugh at that, he doesn’t. He had been planning to reuse this tie for the rest of the week because he hasn’t been bothered to head down to the laundromat near his place, and now his plans are ruined. For a good cause, but still ruined. He tries to convey all of this in a single, disgruntled, “Mmph.”

“Aww. Did you _want_ someone to hear you, baby?” Yuri coos, not even giving Byleth a chance to respond—not that he can—before thrusting up again. Byleth groans, the gag muffling the sound enough that it’s hardly any louder than a sigh—he can feel the head of Yuri’s cock rubbing against his insides, leaking pre-cum in his hole. Is he going to be filled up with cum again? Will Yuri make him sit on the office floor and finger the cum out of himself this time, so Yuri can watch with his own eyes rather than through a phone screen?

No—Yuri keeps his cock in him but doesn’t move again, instead reaching around his front to—Byleth _whines,_ as much as he can whine with the gag in his mouth—and wraps a hand around his hard dick, slender fingers playing along his length. “Every second I am not riding this thing is a second wasted,” Yuri mutters, more to himself than to Byleth, but Byleth shivers and grinds back against him all the same, cock dripping pre-cum down Yuri’s knuckles. “Next time… at your desk instead, when everyone’s gone home…”

The thought of doing this at Byleth’s desk, Yuri seated on his lap and fucking himself on Byleth’s cock, nearly drives Byleth insane—he tightens his ass around Yuri’s dick inside him, hearing Yuri hiss in pleasure right beside his ear, but he still doesn’t _move._ “Please,” Byleth tries to beg, “ _please,_ I need you,” but all that leaves his mouth is a mess of garbled, unintelligible syllables.

As if knowing exactly what Byleth is trying to say, Yuri pulls out of him entirely, cock pressing against Byleth’s ass instead. Byleth nearly cries in frustration, bending further over Yuri’s desk to try and line his hole back up with Yuri’s dick, but it’s no use. Yuri jerks him off instead, one hand pressed against Byleth’s back to keep him from moving while his other one teases Byleth’s cock in a variety of techniques, each one more infuriating than the last: rubbing the head, dragging blunt nails down the shaft, cupping his balls.

Byleth presses his sweat-slick forehead against the office desk, his glasses nearly slipping off the bridge of his nose entirely, when he finally comes in Yuri’s hand—his hole clenches around nothing, and he ruts furiously against Yuri’s cock, desperate for the slightest bit of friction down there. “Oh, you’re so cute,” Yuri purrs, reaching down to squeeze an asscheek. “So good. Such a fucking cockslut.”

The words only spur his orgasm further, his cum spurting out between Yuri’s fingers and dripping onto the floor. He slumps down to his knees the instant Yuri lets go of him, head spinning and eyelids heavy. “Alright?” Yuri breathes, his one clean hand steadying him on his chest.

Byleth takes another few seconds to breathe, then nods. Has he ever been that desperate to have something inside him before? It had been embarrassing, but somehow… well… he’d rather not continue that sentence, if only to protect the single shred of dignity he still has left.

“Good. You’re so good. I’m proud of you.” Yuri crouches down in front of him, tilting Byleth’s chin up to make eye contact. Byleth’s probably not thinking straight right now—then again, when is he ever—but somehow he thinks Yuri’s eyes, a dazzling violet, are the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. “You always do so well for me, huh? You look so pretty right now. I should’ve had you bound and gagged forever ago.”

The reminder of how he looks right now—bound and gagged, as Yuri succinctly put it, with two different neckties—only has heat surging to Byleth’s cheeks. He doesn’t need to see himself right now to know he must look absolutely humiliating, especially knelt down on the floor like this. But Yuri’s clean hand has moved from his chin to his forehead, brushing flyaway strands of hair out of his face, and Byleth finds himself subconsciously leaning into his touch.

“I can’t just untie you right away,” Yuri mumbles. He pulls back, leaving Byleth bereft of that comforting warmth, and rummages through the mess on his desk before retrieving his camera. Right—Yuri had been a photographer when he first started here. “Stay nice and still for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

It’s probably just a meaningless endearment, but the pet name makes Byleth’s heart stutter all the same. He nods again but doesn’t move afterwards, and he tries his utmost best not to squirm when Yuri lifts the camera up and audibly snaps a photo. “Lift your arms up above your head.”

He’s using the tone of voice he adopts whenever he’s issuing orders to those lower in status, and Byleth would be lying if he says he doesn’t find it just the tiniest bit attractive. He obeys, following Yuri’s curt directions to look directly at the camera as well, and only when Byleth blinks does he realize his eyes are wet—had he been _crying,_ too? He hadn’t even noticed. What kind of mess does he look right now?

“ _Good_ boy,” Yuri praises, snapping a few more photos. Byleth tries not to imagine what he might be zooming in on—the outline of his peaked nipples through his sweat-damp blouse? The gag stuffed in his mouth, a drying trail of saliva down his chin? His softened dick, some of his cum still dripping down his length?

Every possibility just makes Byleth tremble more until he’s having genuine trouble keeping his arms steady in the air. Yuri seems to notice, because after one last picture he sets the camera aside and returns to Byleth, undoing his restraints and pulling the gag out of his mouth. “You did well,” Yuri says again, even gentler this time. “Feeling alright?”

He has absolutely no business sounding this… well… _kind._ Byleth works his jaw and flexes his arms, then nods before remembering he can speak now. “Yes,” he says, not surprised at how hoarse he sounds. “I’m okay. You should know that by now.”

Yuri scoffs. “ _Forgive me_ for making sure.”

“You’re forgiven.” Byleth blinks down at the clear strain in Yuri’s pants—he had buttoned back up before getting the camera, but he hadn’t even finished earlier, since apparently teasing Byleth to orgasm had been more important. “Yuri… sir,” he says, reaching with one still-shaky hand to touch Yuri’s wrist. “Don’t you need help with that?”

Yuri looks down, like he’d forgotten his own erection, before humming out a pleasantly surprised _oh._ “Well then, I’m not about to say no to that.”

He leans against the edge of his desk and undoes his pants while Byleth shuffles closer, nearly salivating at the promise of Yuri’s cock in his mouth—not quite the hole he wants filled, but it’ll have to do.

The moment Yuri’s underwear is out of the way, his stiff cock springs out hard and waiting for Byleth, and by now the motions are so familiar they’re almost comforting. There’s no need to waste time coaxing Yuri to full hardness, so Byleth doesn’t hesitate and wraps his lips around the head as soon as he lands eyes on it, lapping up the beads of pre-cum that had begun to gather. “God, I—I’m already close,” Yuri gasps out, hand tightening in Byleth’s hair. “This is your fault for having such a perfect fucking ass.”

 _My fault?_ Byleth would repeat incredulously, if he could speak—as it is, something entirely different from a necktie gag has his mouth currently occupied. He slides Yuri’s cock deeper inside, relaxing his jaw when Yuri starts bucking his hips upwards, slowly at first before he starts full-on fucking Byleth’s mouth. And Byleth _loves_ it, craves the feeling of being _used_ this way, as just another hole for Yuri to fuck—he moans around his mouthful, hands trembling where he’s gripping onto Yuri’s thighs.

How does he look right now, kneeling on the floor before Yuri, getting his throat fucked while he stares blearily up at his boss? Byleth wonders if it’s a sight Yuri would want a photo of, dick in mouth and all, and shudders at the heat of pleasure that courses through him. He barely even registers Yuri pulling out of his mouth to come on his face with a high gasp—it’s pure instinct by now to open his mouth and stretch his tongue out, catching as much cum as he can while the rest spills on his forehead and cheeks.

Byleth’s still catching his breath and trying to make sure he hasn’t completely screwed up his throat when Yuri reaches down and, of all things, plucks his glasses off his face. For once, Byleth’s vision actually clears up _without_ his glasses, which is probably because cum had splattered onto the lenses. “I like you with these,” Yuri remarks.

“Thank you?” Byleth blinks up at him, before properly processing what Yuri is doing right now, which is bringing out a handkerchief—he brings _handkerchiefs_ around?—and wiping at the lenses. “Oh. Oh, uh, Yuri, it’s—it’s fine, it’s really okay, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Yuri interrupts, not unkindly. He cleans them off as best as he can before bending down to slide the glasses back on Byleth’s face. “If you let it dry, it’ll be much harder to get off.”

“I… Yeah, you’re right…” His cheeks are warming up again. Has Yuri always been this strangely… tender? Byleth still vividly remembers how it had been the first few times they’d interacted, where Yuri perpetually looked menacing and like he was planning to murder someone, what with how his smile never reached his eyes—if he smiled at all. Sure, Yuri asked for his permission for everything new they tried during sex, but… that was it. It never really extended to gestures like these.

Until now, obviously.

“Sheesh, it’s late,” Yuri’s muttering, glancing up at the wall clock above his office door. “Being with you always makes me lose track of time for all the worst reasons. Anyway, did you hear about what happened with the media team yesterday? Apparently it was an absolute scandal, Ashe told me—”

“Do you want to get dinner with me?” Byleth blurts out.

Yuri stares at him for the longest seconds of Byleth’s life before saying, “What?”

“Dinner. With me,” Byleth repeats, feeling himself get stupider with every word. He should probably just forget it and abandon ship by now, but for some reason his mouth absolutely refuses to stay shut. “I, uh. I’ve been getting better at cooking lately. And it’s late. My—My apartment’s only two train stops from here.”

“Your apartment,” Yuri echoes, sounding faint.

Byleth nods. “I don’t keep pets. I mean, well, I do, but my cat is with my sister right now and I cleaned the place just yesterday so you shouldn’t have to worry about getting allergy attacks or anything. Um, do you—do you like yaki udon? Or pasta, I can do that too. Or—”

“Byleth.”

“Yes,” Byleth squeaks, bracing himself for a rejection.

Instead of saying anything right away, though, Yuri only stares at Byleth for another moment longer before leaning back against his desk again. “Pasta,” he finally responds. He still sounds like he’s about to pass out at any given moment, or like he’s on the verge of cardiac arrest. “I like pasta.”

“Oh,” Byleth says. “Okay. Pasta. Okay.”

Thankfully, no one else is in the office this late in the evening—Yuri locks up, they take the elevator down together, Byleth says bye to the security guard, and they head to the nearby train station. Byleth had been expecting awkward silence, which is why he’s already running over all the ingredients he needs for pasta just to stay calm and keep himself from bouncing on his heels from the anxiety, but Yuri relaxes surprisingly quickly afterwards. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he says. “Or a sister.”

Byleth panics so much at the idea of casual conversation that isn’t related to sex or work in some way that he accidentally responds with, “Me neither.”

“You neither,” Yuri echoes, a grin spreading across his face. But—Byleth falters in his steps a moment, because it’s not a teasing grin or a wicked grin or a grin that promises Byleth his ass is going to be torn in two. It’s just like a smile, one borne from amusement, and Byleth doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yuri actually look… happy. “Byleth, how do you live like this?”

Byleth allows a smile of his own. “My cat’s name is Sothis. She’s a maine coon. Uh, and my sister is also named Byleth.”

“Hah? Byleth and Byleth?”

“My parents aren’t creative.” Or at least Dad isn’t. “Do, uh, do you have any siblings, Yuri?”

Yuri shakes his head. “Just my mom,” he says, which Byleth admittedly hadn’t been expecting. It’s less of what he says and more of how he says it—his voice is soft, caring, like he’s the sort of son who goes above and beyond whenever his mother’s birthday rolls around. The idea is cute, especially considering how Yuri typically acts in the office.

Byleth leads him up to his apartment unit, more than a little embarrassed by how unkempt the one-bedroom is—he _had_ cleaned yesterday, sure, but to be completely honest he’s been cleaning almost everyday just to get his mind off worries, like how he’s going to pay next month’s rent and how he’s going to extend the stupid dinner invitation. He supposes he’s one worry down now, at least. “Um, make yourself at home,” he tells Yuri, although Yuri’s already doing exactly that on Byleth’s couch, where stuffing has spilled down a giant gash on one end thanks to one of Sothis’ frequent temper tantrums. “I’ll… cook.”

This is a mess. He had made pasta exactly once and never again, for good reason, that reason being he had spent a very long hour in his bathroom afterwards. Byleth should have just suggested they get takeout from Yuri’s favorite restaurant or something. Scratch that—why had Byleth even offered his place? He should’ve gone with taking Yuri out to an _actual_ restaurant, even if it would’ve looked an awful lot like a date. They fuck almost everyday, and Byleth’s getting nervous over whether or not a dinner invitation would seem like a _date?_

“Byleth?” Yuri calls, and it doesn’t sound like the first time. Byleth shakes the thoughts away and turns to face Yuri, only he’s not flopped on the couch anymore but rather standing right beside him. “Hey, there you are. You were spacing out.”

“I… was not,” Byleth lies, terribly.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Sure. Anyway, have you ever actually made pasta before? I can help if you want. It’s not too hard.”

“I—But you’re the guest, I should—”

“The guest is offering his very tempting services right now.” Yuri tilts his head to the side with a little smirk. “Unless, of course, you didn’t _actually_ invite me here for dinner, in which case I would love to offer completely different services. For a fee.”

Byleth blinks. “I didn’t think of that,” he admits. “What fee?”

“Pasta.”

“That’s fair,” Byleth agrees, and smiles like an idiot when Yuri _laughs._ He looks even more beautiful like this, head thrown slightly back and eyes alight in entertainment. “You’re pretty like that,” Byleth says, heading to the kitchen.

Yuri frowns almost immediately. “Like what?” he asks, though Byleth has a feeling he knows what he means.

“You know. Happy.”

“Hmph. Probably because _happy_ doesn’t get me as far as _intimidating_ in the business world. I have had to scowl the socks off more than just a few higher-ups who just wouldn’t listen to me.” Yuri scans the kitchen, then grabs a frilly pink apron hanging off a hook and tosses it towards Byleth, who catches it on reflex. Has he ever even worn this apron? The only memory he has of it is when he tried putting it on Sothis and she consequently tried biting his face off.

It’s unexpectedly easy working with Yuri like this, even if this might be the first time they’ve really worked together on anything. Yuri _is_ good at cooking—he has a natural affinity for it, something Byleth can tell based on his instinctive, fluid movements, and in other details like how he hardly needs to use Byleth’s grimy measuring cups or spoons to know exactly how much salt and sugar to use. And after Byleth gets over the initial awkwardness that comes with every conversation he enters, Yuri’s even easier to talk to—he jumps from one topic to another, never faltering in his words, speaking with the same confidence he wields like a weapon.

Yet in this manner, Yuri holds himself with less stiffness than usual—Byleth has never been much for social cues or norms, but he thinks he’s decent at observing people, and Yuri relaxes so much over the course of the cooking that it’s obvious no matter how much Yuri might try to hide it. In the office, he always seems to be working himself to the bone, but he’d rather keel over than show a modicum of weakness anywhere on his person; here, the tension leaves his shoulders, and the expression he wears almost 24/7—annoyed with a hint of haughtiness—falls away for languid smiles and carefree laughs.

Byleth wants to see him like this all the time, wants to _make_ him like this all the time. That thought is almost physically painful, somehow, if only because he has no idea if this is just a one-time thing, if Yuri’s only here out of courtesy and won’t bother returning. Won’t bother staying.

“Thanks for the meal,” Yuri sings, leaning back with a sigh once his plate is cleaned. Byleth’s almost surprised the pasta had come out halfway decent, which just shows how good Yuri is at this. “Man, I haven’t had something homemade in a while. Usually just heating slices from the same pizza every night.”

“Th—Isn’t that unhealthy?” Byleth frowns. “If you want, you can have dinner here whenever you like. Or we can go out to a restaurant.”

Yuri gives him a suspicious look. “So you’ve gotten bored having sex at the office, huh? Wanna switch up the locations, do you?”

“What—t-that’s not it!” Byleth protests, waving his hands around. Yuri doesn’t even laugh like he’d been expecting him to, which means he hadn’t meant that as a joke, and that just makes Byleth more worried than he already is. “Um, I—you know I care about you, right, Yuri? And we… _are_ friends, aren’t we? I like spending time with you like this.”

Yuri stares at him. “You’ve lost me,” he eventually says, sounding genuinely bewildered. “Friends?”

“Are we not?” Byleth mumbles.

“No, I mean—I mean, we—we _could_ be,” Yuri hurriedly says, and Byleth has a feeling he isn’t the only one panicking now, based off how uncharacteristically harried Yuri sounds. “If you want. Which I guess you do. I… shit,” he mutters. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Um, friendship?”

Yuri gestures flippantly with his hand. “That, and—and all this.” He scowls down at his plate like it had personally offended him, but Byleth would have to be blind to miss the bright blush coloring his cheeks. It’s rare he sees Yuri so flustered, considering that’s usually Byleth’s job, and he can’t deny it looks adorable on him. “Aren’t you going to, you know. Get what you paid for now?”

“What I p—?”

“Sex,” Yuri cuts in. “The food was the fee, remember?”

“I don’t want to pay you for sex,” Byleth says, aghast. “I just wanted to have dinner with you. Isn’t that enough?”

Yuri’s quiet for a few seconds, staring numbly down at his lap, and Byleth takes the chance to psych himself up before clearing his throat and speaking again. “Listen, um, Yuri. I, er. I don’t know if you—if you’re going to care about this, but I just wanted to say, um… I really… you know, I really like you. Like, a lot. A really lot—I mean, a whole lot.” Is he ever going to stop stumbling over his words? Probably not.

“So you’re… you’re saying…” Yuri coughs into his fist, his face redder than Byleth’s ever seen it. “That you. Like me. Like, more than a friend-with-benefits should.”

Byleth swallows and averts his gaze, physically unable to meet Yuri’s eyes right now. “Is that bad?”

There’s no immediate response, which really only makes Byleth internally panic _more,_ until he hears the scrape of chair legs against the floor. He looks up just in time to blink owlishly up at Yuri, who’s stood up from his seat just to move and stand beside him instead. He looks different under Byleth’s kitchen light, though there’s no real reason the lighting, of all things, would be making his features look softer, more vulnerable. “You can just say it,” Byleth mumbles. “If—If you don’t. Like me. Or if you just want to keep this professional. Or—”

“Byleth,” Yuri interrupts, so gently it hurts. Byleth screws his eyes shut, wishing he could just reject him already and get this over with. Why had Byleth even thought this would be a good idea? How is he going to eat dinner in this kitchen everyday now when the memory of this night is going to haunt him for as long as he remembers it—

There’s a hand on his cheek, soft and tender. Byleth hesitantly, confusedly, opens his eyes. He’s not sure why he had been thinking it might be any other hand than Yuri’s. “Look at me?” he asks, voice low, and Byleth’s never been one to disobey.

He tilts his head up, at just the right angle for Yuri to bend down and kiss him.

Byleth’s first instinct is, as usual, to panic, but somehow he manages to force his initial reaction down long enough for his head to properly process the current situation. When he finally _does_ understand what’s going on, Yuri’s already drawing back, one hand cupping Byleth’s face and the other tucking his long hair behind his ear. “Kiss me back,” Yuri demands, sounding for all the world like a petulant child.

“Wait,” Byleth says, “does this mean—”

“Don’t make me spell it out for you,” Yuri grumbles, that endearing flustered blush still coloring most of his face. He can’t seem to make eye contact with Byleth when he says, “But, ugh, yes. I-I like you too, okay? I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it just did somewhere along the way. Maybe I had an epiphany while I was fucking your brains out or whatever.”

“I can’t say when it happened either,” Byleth responds, deciding to ignore that last comment. “Or when I realized it, more like. But I’m glad I did. And I’m glad you did, too.” He smiles, and can’t stop smiling, because it looks like his dinner table isn’t going to haunt him forever after all. “Okay, I’m ready now. Kiss me again.”

Yuri snorts. “Idiot. I am going to do a lot more than that.”

But he kisses him first anyway, and Byleth feels his smile mirrored on Yuri’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> \- [taiyaki](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taiyaki) is a popular japanese street food that is basically fish-shaped bread with filling. i ate some once and i have not been able to stop thinking about them ever since. the tail typically has less filling as compared to the head, so byleth taking a bite out of the tail in the beginning of the fic is a sign of just how much he loves yuri that he will give his idiot boyfriend more filling for himself :)  
> \- sothis the cat is a [maine coon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maine_Coon) purely because it's a long-haired cat breed. i did not take into consideration anything else. also there are no cats with natural green fur so i had to make do :/
> 
> thank you for reading (❁´◡`❁) if you liked this, check out [this tweet](https://twitter.com/featherxs/status/1239788477807349760)!
> 
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